Lapse
by liviafan1
Summary: It isn't how she imagined their first time would be at all. It's raw, visceral, and it cuts when she wakes up in the harsh reality of the dawn. ONESHOT.


It isn't how she imagined their first time would be at all. It's raw, visceral, and it cuts when she wakes up in the harsh reality of the dawn. She rolls softly out of his bed, wincing as her bruised shoulder hits the corner of his bedside table. She freezes, whips her head to see if she's disturbed him. He snores, mouth wide open, drooling on the pillow. She'd probably think it was adorable if she wasn't trying to get her ass outta there.

She slips into her jeans and tee shirt and hobbles out the door, shoes in hand. Her body aches and she desperately needs a shower, but she can wait until she gets home to assess the damage. She ducks her head out of the office, holding her breath. It's just her. She sighs, flicks her head back to his sleeping form bathed in sunlight.

She can't do this now. She has to get out of there.

* * *

><p>Her fingers linger over the purple bruises on her hips and trail up her body to caress the soft bites he left across her clavicle. She trembles, remembers the way his body pressed into her as his mouth hovered hotly over hers, gripping her hips with his warm palms.<p>

Her face flushes as the memories flood back to her, attempting to diffuse her rationality. She'd be lying if she said she didn't want to do it all over again, didn't want to relive and relish every second of his limbs tangled in hers.

She closes her eyes, bracing her hands against the bathroom sink. It was a mistake. They'd get past it. Surely, he didn't…

Oh, but they hadn't had that much to drink. Two glasses of wine, at the most. Certainly not enough for her to chalk it up to the pleasant humming of alcohol flowing through her body.

She hears her phone buzz from somewhere in her living room and clenches her fingers tighter against the porcelain. It's probably him. It's rare for either of them to sleep this late without a body dropping. She swallows roughly, throwing out a hand to shut the door, to drown out the sound of his call.

Later.

She lingers in the shower, lets the spray work out the tension building in her muscles. She breathes a little shorter, lets the steam sink down into her lungs, filling her. She shivers as her hands skim the length of her body, remembers the way his rough palms danced across her stomach, trailed down her the lines of her legs, the expanse of her chest. The thought makes her gasp aloud.

She rinses in frigid water.

* * *

><p>Her fingers twitch anxiously, dangling at her side as she steps onto the elevator of the 12th. She was already certain that today would be a catch-up day, that she'd likely spend hours writing up reports and filing away the closed. It meant that she wouldn't have to call him, fumble awkwardly with words as she waited for him to interrupt, to call her out on her bullshit.<p>

But that didn't mean that he wouldn't show up.

In fact, it would be a very Richard Castle thing to do to show up and pussyfoot around it all day. More likely than calling her out over the phone, anyway.

She lets out a little relieved sigh as she steps out of the elevator, noting his empty chair. She slings out of her coat, nodding to a grumbling Ryan and Esposito, who are none too thrilled to be stuck on desk duty all day. She drapes her coat across the back of her chair and picks up the steaming cup of coffee that sits next to her keyboard, smiling.

The cup makes it to her lips before she freezes in realization.

She didn't bring coffee today.

And unless she'd acquired amnesia within the last several minutes, she was pretty sure she hadn't grabbed a cup from the break room, either.

Which meant-

"Good morning, Detective."

She whips her head around, finds a fresh-faced Castle smiling behind his own cup of coffee. She narrows her eyes curiously, but he's got his poker face on. She can't get a read on him.

She clears her throat. "Morning, Castle."

She can't take her eyes off him as he sits in his chair and pulls out his phone, fingers gliding over the touch screen. He shifts in his chair, getting comfortable. In his movement, he flashes her a bit of purpled skin that peeks out beneath the collar of his oxford shirt. Her breath catches in her throat and suddenly he's trapped against the door of his bedroom again, at the mercy of her teasing, nipping mouth.

Jesus. She'd spent all morning trying to dispel the flush that seemed permanently attached and two minutes in his presence renders it all for naught.

She realizes that she's still staring and he seems to have noticed. The corners of his mouth tick upward and he lifts his head, raising an eyebrow. "You okay?"

She nods, pulling out her chair abruptly to sit down and regain her composure.

"What are you doing here?" she blurts out.

"What do you mean?" he asks innocently. She doesn't buy it, sees the gleam shining in the recesses of his eyes. She won't give him the satisfaction.

She shrugs, plays it off. "There's no body drop today. Just paperwork. You should go home, spend the day with Alexis." She smiles, but it lacks conviction. He won't buy it and she knows that.

"She's on another college tour with my mother, so I wouldn't have any company."

"What about Nikki Heat? Aren't you writing something?" She grabs a file from the stack on the corner of her desk and flips it open, perusing it.

"Why? Trying to get rid of me?"

Yes. Yes, she is.

"No…I just think you'd be bored hanging around here, that's all."

"I could never be bored with you, Kate," he says softly. She tears her eyes from the folder to look at him, but he isn't looking at her, won't give himself away.

"Okay," she says gently.

* * *

><p>It's almost as if it never happened. He'd barely left her side all day, leaving only to grab them some food or fill her coffee mug. He hadn't said much either, which was a little odd, but still…<p>

Not what she was expecting. She held her breath all day, waited for it to come. But it didn't.

She wasn't prepared for _this._

They leave together at five and she feels her frustration—with him and _herself_ for not figuring out what the hell she wants—bubbling at the surface.

"You seem tense," he observes as she jabs the button for the ground floor.

"I'm fine." It's short, curt, and he doesn't deserve it, especially after he hadn't pushed her today.

"I missed you this morning." It's quiet, not like him at all, and she almost misses it.

She sighs. "I know."

"It wasn't a mistake, Kate. Maybe we went too fast, too soon, but…" He sighs, shakes his head. "It wasn't a mistake."

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about it all day," she admits, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth.

She seems him grin out of the corner of her eye.

"Me either."

* * *

><p><strong>Let me know what you think.<strong>

**Olivia**


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